Unburied in Plain Sight
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Missing scenes from 'Dead and Unburied.' Tony and Ziva discuss the contents of her desk. Then they get it on. Then it's over. Only the second chapter is M rated.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The owning and the nothing we're all so used to.

Spoilers: _Dead and Unburied_, but only if you were paying really close attention when Tony was searching through Ziva's desk drawer.

Summary: I'd call it a 'missing scene' from _Dead and Unburied_, but it's really a method for bleaching my brain after that Palmer/Lee scene. Be glad I wrote this and not the drunken karaoke fic I was considering. It's probably for the best; I doubt anyone would believe that Ziva knows all the lyrics to 'Bohemian Rhapsody.'

* * *

Tony leaned over the edge of his desk, watching as Gibbs disappeared around the corner. He had exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds to get out of the squad room. He grabbed his gear and headed to the elevator. He pressed the call button. The gears and cables whirred somewhere behind the doors, but that was all. He stabbed the call button, checking his watch. One minute and thirty-two seconds left. He pumped his fist triumphantly as the elevator dinged. He was home free with one minute and seven seconds to spare.

A familiar voice carried through the closing doors, "Hold that, please!"

Tony briefly considered the consequences of failing to comply with the request. All were highly negative. Still, he was behind on the daily one-upping war. His finger depressed the close door button just as a hand slid into the small space between the doors.

He met Ziva's glare with a sheepish grin and shrugged one shoulder. Rather than stepping into the elevator, she remained on the threshold, preventing the doors from closing. "In a hurry, Tony?"

"Something like that." He glanced at his watch. Fifty-three seconds left. He poked his head over her shoulder, glancing down the hallway and trying not to sniff her hair. He spoke softly into her ear, "Look, unless you want to explain to Gibbs why we're leaving before midnight, I suggest you get in here before he gets back from the bathroom."

She had slammed the heel of her hand against the close door button before he'd even realized she was in the elevator. The doors closed with a satisfying thud. "McGee escaped already?"

"Yeah, he went down to check on something in Abby's lab and never came back."

She nodded knowingly. "Ah, so that's why that one didn't work for me a few minutes ago. Honestly, I was getting used to the new Gibbs. It's been weeks since I've worried he's going to force us into having a summer party on the squad room floor."

"You mean slumber party?" Tony let his mind wander in its usual direction. "You gotta admit, that has possibilities…"

He didn't need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. The rode in silence for a moment before Ziva gave him a sidelong glance. "You think I overdid it with the hair thing?"

He wracked his brain trying to come up with an appropriate response. He finally settled on reaching out and pushing a thick, dark tress behind her ear. "I think your hair looks nice." He trailed his fingertips down her neck, reluctantly pulling them back as they came to the collar of her coat.

She ignored the contact and rolled her eyes again, turning toward him. "I meant this morning, when you stole my deodorant. McGee seemed suspicious. I think I may have pushed it too hard."

He groaned. "We've been over this. He hasn't figured it out. No one has. We're golden."

"Still…"

"Zeeeee-vah. Relax. It's not like you were yelling at me about leaving hair in your sink. Again."

She considered him carefully. "I suppose." She turned forward, continuing, "Regardless, you make an excellent point. You really should head home to shower and shave." She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust before grinning at him.

He decided to wipe the smile off her face. "You know, deodorant wasn't the only thing I found in your desk this morning." Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he produced a small, flat square. She stared into the semi-reflective inner elevator doors as he waved it in front of her eyes. "Now why would you need _this_ at work?"

She turned deliberately, stepping toward him. He found that he couldn't retreat, but it was only partially due to the confines of the space they occupied. She was holding his gaze with an intensity he could only describe as gravitational. "You remember what I told you about the being a spy, yes…Tony?" She lingered on his name.

He tried to laugh, gasp and breathe all at once, unsure of why he thought he could have embarrassed or flustered her. "You aren't exactly in the spy game anymore."

He didn't understand how it was possible for her to keep getting closer without actually touching him, but she seemed to be doing just that. "Why do you think I have only one in my desk?"

The elevator dinged at the ground floor. Tony nodded a greeting to a probie he almost recognized as he and Ziva exited the building and walked to their cars, parked in adjacent spots.

He looked over the roof of his car, trying to keep his tone casual. "So…about an hour or so?"

"That should be fine. It will give me time to make dinner."

"A home-cooked meal, too? You really are the perfect woman, Ziva David."

"No strings attached just means I'm no one's puppet."

He held up the object he'd taken from her desk. "Think one will be enough?"

"If you think it will be you shouldn't even bother coming."

He watched her car as she sped off, laying a patch of rubber in the parking lot. The sudden remembrance of her last smile spurred him to get in his car and drive home. He decided he'd have to make it a cold shower if he was going to have to wait a whole hour.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Grrrrr. Rrrowf. Urfurf. Rwowr. Note: To translate disclaimer from 'Dog' to 'English,' consult your spaniel.

Spoilers: Still _Dead and Unburied_. Kind of. Nothing terribly important.

Summary: **M rating**! Red light! Tiva sex! I wasn't planning to add anything to this fic when I wrote it several months ago, but then I saw the rerun and I figured why start a whole new fic when I had this one just lying around? If they rerun it again over the summer maybe you'll see a third chapter. Has Tony been in a cold shower all this time? Poor guy.

* * *

"You actually said you weren't blowing _on_ me again. Blowing _on_ me. That's totally different."

Ziva raised an eyebrow and surveyed Tony over the rim of her half-empty wine glass, folding her legs under her as she joined him on the sofa. He'd been pestering her for sex since he'd walked through the door an hour previously. She wouldn't have bothered to cook if she'd realized how single-minded he'd been at the office. Slowly sipping her wine, she asked, "Did I make you dinner tonight?"

"Yes. Yes you did."

"And did you enjoy it?"

"There is no context in which I wouldn't enjoy a thick, juicy steak." His hand slipped around her body to grasp her closer.

"And did I ask you to clear the table or load the dishwasher?"

"Nope."

"Then please explain to me why I have to do all that and then get on my knees while you sit on the couch and relax." She finished her wine and placed the glass on the table.

He gave her a lopsided grin. "You can stay on the couch and lean over if that's more comfortable."

"That's it. Go home." She stood and walked toward her bedroom. "There's the door."

He leaned over the back of the couch. "Which one?"

"What do you mean?"

"The door you're walking toward looks a whole lot better than the one you're pointing at."

She paused at the bathroom, leaning in to grab a bottle of lotion off the sink. She tossed it to him and continued toward the bedroom. "You'll need that. Goodnight."

"Ziva…" He followed, catching the bedroom door to prevent her from closing it. Rather than offer any resistance, she let him into the room, but continued to walk away. She felt his desire in the pressure of his hands as they grasped her waist, in the heat of his breath on the back of her neck. "Dinner was great and you have to let me thank you for it."

"And how do you plan to do that?" She pulled her hair off her neck to give him more skin to kiss. His lips continued to press against her neck and shoulder as his fingers undid her pants.

"I have some ideas." He abruptly yanked her shirt over her head and spun her around to face him. A whole new hunger overcame her as she tasted him. Buttons popped off his shirt as she tore it open. "Hey! Watch it." He leaned down and swept her legs out from under her, picking her up only to drop her on the bed.

"Don't turn this into a fight you can't win," she warned.

He was unfazed, shedding his shirt before leaning over to hook his index fingers under the waist of her pants. "It doesn't have to be a fight because we're both gonna win. Why does everything have to be about violence with you?"

She squirmed out of her pants, moving toward the headboard. "Physicality isn't necessarily violence. Intensity just makes it feel that way sometimes." Clad only in her lingerie, she stretched her legs out as she sat leaning against the head of the bed. "Would you prefer that I just lie there and take it?"

"What fun would that be?" he replied as his lips and tongue started at her feet and worked their way up her legs. His fingers were warm as they slipped into her panties, but she pouted as he went straight from her inner thighs to her stomach and tried to push his head back down. "Be patient. God, you'd think you were the one begging for it for the last hour."

She reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. "I don't beg. Now stop teasing me."

"Hold on. I want a mental picture of you in your little lacy things for the office tomorrow."

He went straight for her breasts as she slid the bra off her arms. "Wouldn't you prefer naked?"

"Please." He took a moment with his mouth on each nipple. "I've been picturing you naked since we met. Knowing what you've got on under your clothes just adds another dimension."

"Yes. You're so deep." She rolled her eyes and pushed his head down again. He complied, taking longer than necessary to slide her panties down her legs. He worked his way back up and she let her head fall back, biting her lip. "Mmm…oh, right there…mmmmm…"

She stroked his hair roughly with her hands as her thighs clasped his head. He used his tongue and fingers, pushing her until she couldn't take it anymore. "Oh…yes…yes…Tony…" The scream that burst from her throat was clear and strong, despite the shivering that had suddenly taken over her body.

He kissed his way up her stomach and chest, finally finding her mouth. "My turn."

She nodded weakly, attempting to shift her position. He prevented her and her eyes went wide as he filled her in a single movement. "Tony…" She couldn't even remember him taking his pants off.

"I wanna hear _you_ scream again." He adjusted his body, supporting himself on one knee before he started to move. The headboard dug into her back as he pushed her into it harder with each thrust. Tensing, she gathered her remaining willpower and sprang forward as he rocked back and withdrew for a split-second. He managed to bend his knees and unfold his legs and she came down on top of him, pinning him against the bed. "That had the potential to hurt a hell of a lot."

"Shut up. You're fine." Repositioning herself, she sank onto him again and resumed their former frenzied rhythm. She locked her elbows as she pressed her hands against his chest. "That better?"

"Oh…yeah." He clutched her hips, pulling her against him and restricting her freedom of movement. "Except…"

He suddenly seized both of her wrists with his right hand and brought them over her head as he flipped her onto her back. He kept her arms restrained. Her legs wrapped tightly around him as she struggled to regain the use of her arms. "Tony…"

"No scratching tonight." He resumed his long thrusts and she continued to fight against him above the waist while working with him below. "If I let go, will you behave?"

"No," she answered honestly, squeezing her eyes closed and pushing herself against him harder. "Oh…Tony…oh…" She soon lost all capacity for speech. He relaxed on top of her a few moments after her screams ceased.

He eventually rolled off her. "Whoa."

"Yeah." She leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the top sheet and comforter that they'd displaced. She settled her head on her pillow, tugging the covers around herself. "I'm sure you're tired."

"Yup." He draped his arm over her waist as he spooned her under the covers.

She tensed as he kissed the back of her neck. "So I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll make you pancakes if you've got that mix stuff."

"Isn't it about time for you to leave?" She fought the urge to turn and face him.

"Who said anything about leaving?"

He momentarily relaxed his embrace as she rolled over. "Tony, I'm tired and we have to work tomorrow."

"So we sleep now, have breakfast and a shower in the morning and go to work."

Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "Go home."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't a relationship. We have sex and you go home."

"Things change."

She ignored the sadness she hoped she was imagining in his eyes. "Not this."

"If I go, I'm not coming back."

"That's the idea."

"I mean ever."

She turned over to hide her hurt. If it hurt it meant something, and if it meant something… "If that's how you want it to be."

"It's not."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Ziva, things are going to change no matter what, but I just need to know where we stand before they do. Would you wait or do you want to just end this and pretend it never happened?"

"Wait for what? And you're the one talking about ending it. I never said…"

"I know. I'm sorry. I just…I got a call before I came over and I knew this would be the last time for a while. I just need to know if…you're right. I should go." He dressed silently and she contemplated what he could possibly be talking about. A call? Did someone at work know about them? Were their jobs in danger? She was startled out of her thoughts by his gentle kiss. "Goodbye, Ziva."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony allowed his car to glide to a stop at the red light three blocks from Ziva's apartment. He hated this light. It always knew he was coming. He would make the left turn, see that it was green and accelerate. Halfway down the block, it would turn yellow. It would turn red in the moment before he decided to floor the gas pedal and he would give up, letting the car slow and stop almost of its own accord. He was convinced it was the only light in the Metro area that took vindictive pleasure in forcing him to wait; the wait was never less than five minutes.

It was probably more like thirty seconds. That was still too long. It gave him too much time to think about turning around and going back. There was just enough space to make a u-turn in the street. Just a sharp twist of the wheel to the left and he could do the scariest thing he'd ever wanted to do. The light turned green but he ignored it.

Leaving hadn't been a problem the first few times. They'd had sex and he'd taken off, going home and straight to sleep. Then, one hot summer night she'd handed him a glass of cold, homemade lemonade before he'd left. He'd swallowed it quickly and practically run out. That had been the first time he hadn't wanted to leave. The desire to stay had just gotten stronger every time they'd been together since. At her place he'd hang around until she told him to go; at his place he'd hold her until she pushed his arms away and left.

The light turned yellow, then red again. He tentatively searched the contacts list on his cell phone, his finger hovering over the call button when he found the one he wanted. Jenny had given him the night to decide how far he was willing to pursue his mission. He knew she wouldn't be pleased if he pulled out now. It had reached a point where his sacrifice of personal time was going to affect all of his relationships outside the office. She hadn't given him the night to make any decisions so much as to set things in order. The window to act was limited.

Pushing his upcoming lifestyle changes out of his head, he watched the light. It still glowed red. His hands tightened on the wheel as the ambient light around the signal changed from green to yellow. A red burst and he popped the clutch. The Mustang's tires squealed as he accelerated into his u-turn on green.

His confidence ebbed as he parked. Only a sudden eruption of guilt prompted him to slam his fist against the door. Once. He waited. If she didn't come to the door in one minute, he would leave.

59…58…

He leaned close to the door. The movement he'd heard sounded like it had been right on the other side. Why had she been so close to the door?

51…50…49…

The bolt clicked. The chain jangled. The door didn't open. He rested his head on it, just to the right of the peephole.

42…41…

The deep, shaky breaths he heard may or may not have been his own. He fought to keep his voice soft and level. "Ziva?"

34…33…32…

He turned the knob, but didn't try to enter. "Please, can I…"

25…24…

She stared into his eyes as she pulled the door open. "Yes."

He stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He tried not to focus on her legs, shown to advantage in her short robe. He pointed to the couch. "We need to talk."

"Is that why you came back?" She regarded him dubiously, moving to stand in front of him. Her fingers played with the remaining buttons on his shirt. He cupped her face in his hands. She turned away and stepped back when he tried to kiss her. "So let's talk."

"Right." He sat on the couch, his posture unnaturally rigid. Now that he was here, he didn't know what to say. He settled on the obvious. "I don't want this to be over."

She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. "You made that decision. Did you expect me to come running after you?"

He wasn't sure if he were more struck by her callousness or his reply, "I would have come after you."

"I wouldn't have left for no reason," she countered. Although her voice remained cold, color was creeping into her cheeks.

"I have a reason."

"One you won't tell me."

"I can't." The answer was meaningless. He suddenly wondered why he couldn't. She was trustworthy. She wouldn't tell anyone about his mission if he told her about it. Would Jenny have even put this on him if she'd known he was involved with Ziva? _Involved_…it sounded so detached and sterile, nothing like the wet heat of the relationship he was trying to describe. Why _couldn't_ it be a relationship? The hiding had been what ruined it. They'd hidden so carefully that they hadn't even been looking at each other. "We should have been open with this from the beginning."

"What, exactly? That it's been a long time since this has just been about sex?" She covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud." His chest tightened as she continued, "I know I've always been the first to say this isn't a relationship and we've both been seeing other people…"

The lie that was about to become true started to hurt more. "Ziva…"

She drew herself up but avoided eye contact. "It was always going to end. I respect that you've made that decision. You didn't have to come back to check on me. I'm fine."

"Ziva…" He moved closer and reached out to touch her cheek.

"You were right about everything. We should just forget about the last few months."

She trembled under his fingertips. "Ziva…"

"It was just a matter of time. Better to end it before anything…"

"Ziva…"

"Stop saying my name."

The kiss was strange – tentative and unsure. A first kiss. It was too much for him. "I'll go."

She nodded. "Goodbye, Tony."

He ran the red light, stopping just short of hoping there would be a next time to sit beneath it, contemplating whether or not to go back.

The End


End file.
